Your Character's Name: Cupid
There is great strife to being of exceptional capabilities in a very unexceptional world. Nothing ever changes here. How can it? We are all that is left. Well, us and the monsters that have become our captors. Mostly I feel the monsters won anyways. Sure they can’t eat us while we’re hiding behind this wall, but we’re just waiting to die back here.
I’ve been alive for 22 years and I’ve already read every book to the point of memorization and nothing being written is worth the page it is written on. Lazy dreamy eyed stories about nothing at all. Its hard to be creative in such a stagnant society? That’s not why their stories are awful. They’re awful because their authors try to make them something they’re not.
Robert Neville’s stagnation was beautiful. That’s part of the reason I love him so. Sauntering on through the quagmire of his existence… the pureness of his monotony. The comfort he takes from what he hates, from what is driving him mad.
I have never loved a living soul as I love the man within those tattered pages.
I wonder who wrote his story. What the book’s title was. The cover was worn thin and in tatters long before it found its way to me. It seems fitting somehow, not to know.
I’m leaving tonight, with my friends to head out into the world beyond. He says there are people there! Books! Places! Things I’ve never dreamt of! We’re sneaking out after dark. I’ve already told my parents. Mom cried but they both understand. I haven’t been this nervous and excited in an eternity!
I should pack but have no idea what to bring. I can’t seem to concentrate long enough to be useful.
I would rather die outside than spend one more day in here. If the man from my book would have had a chance like this, I know he would have taken it. I’ll bet Robert would be so jealous if he could see me now!
Nobody seemed to notice when we left. I guess I thought it would have been harder somehow. It seems wrong to me that the husk that had kept me contained my entire life could be so easily shed. I expected yelling or shooting or some sort of… something besides silence and nothing in the dark.
I wasn’t as scared as I thought I’d be when I saw the Horsemen beating up a group of people in the field in front of us. Violence doesn’t feel as unimaginable as I thought it would. Not knowing any of them made it easier of course. My heart skipped a beat when one of the ruffians was standing over my friend with a gun, but he was quickly subdued. Afterwords I cleaned and bandaged wounds for the people the Horsemen had injured. I would have come to help my friends fend off the attackers more directly but that wouldn’t have made a whole lot of sense. I’m a thinker not a fighter. I have better uses than breaking heads in, it would be a shame for talents to go to waste.
Sleeping outside I’m feeling oddly peaceful. I wonder how long it will be until people notice I’m gone. I wonder if they’ll be mad at me. I don’t know exactly what I expect to find out here but hopefully I’ll find something. Hopefully my pretty much inevitable banishment for leaving the village walls will not be in vain. I know there are other people out here. There is a war going on in the area we are traveling through, between different organizations of people. That means there must be something for me to find. They must have ideas and theories and things to learn and discover. There can’t just be nothing left, right? That just couldn’t happen. I can’t bear the cruelty of that possibility. I don’t know how anyone would be able to.
I have to sleep. I can’t sleep. Suddenly its getting harder to breathe. The world is closing in on itself again. Maybe they haven’t noticed I’m gone yet. Maybe I could just go back before they know I’m gone and live out the rest of my miserable little life in dilapidated comfort. Deep breaths. I’m better than that.
The stars are the same here as they were at home. I wonder how far away I’ll have to go before I’m under a different sky? I know I could figure it out scientifically. I know about the earth’s rotations and the changing patterns of stars across the sky. I just wonder how far I’ll have to go before the sky will be my own.
The sun refuses to rise and clear away this overly patient darkness. I want to do something besides lie here and try to sleep. I want to go somewhere. I don’t care where, but anywhere but here. What if the people from our village come looking for us? What if they find us collapsed here on the ground? What am I supposed to do then? Lie and say I was kidnapped? No. That would be disgustingly cowardly. Besides, no one is going to find us. There’s no way that would happen. As long as we stay out of sight of camp, we’re all on our own.
Why won’t morning come?
Oh shit. I forgot to bring Robert Neville. I probably forgot a lot of things… somehow this one feels the worst. I hope nothing happens to it. Maybe I can go back someday. Right now I don’t see how that could be possible.
There is great strife to being of exceptional capabilities in a very unexceptional world. Nothing ever changes here. How can it? We are all that is left. Well, us and the monsters that have become our captors. Mostly I feel the monsters won anyways. Sure they can’t eat us while we’re hiding behind this wall, but we’re just waiting to die back here.
I’ve been alive for 22 years and I’ve already read every book to the point of memorization and nothing being written is worth the page it is written on. Lazy dreamy eyed stories about nothing at all. Its hard to be creative in such a stagnant society? That’s not why their stories are awful. They’re awful because their authors try to make them something they’re not.
Robert Neville’s stagnation was beautiful. That’s part of the reason I love him so. Sauntering on through the quagmire of his existence… the pureness of his monotony. The comfort he takes from what he hates, from what is driving him mad.
I have never loved a living soul as I love the man within those tattered pages.
I wonder who wrote his story. What the book’s title was. The cover was worn thin and in tatters long before it found its way to me. It seems fitting somehow, not to know.
I’m leaving tonight, with my friends to head out into the world beyond. He says there are people there! Books! Places! Things I’ve never dreamt of! We’re sneaking out after dark. I’ve already told my parents. Mom cried but they both understand. I haven’t been this nervous and excited in an eternity!
I should pack but have no idea what to bring. I can’t seem to concentrate long enough to be useful.
I would rather die outside than spend one more day in here. If the man from my book would have had a chance like this, I know he would have taken it. I’ll bet Robert would be so jealous if he could see me now!
Nobody seemed to notice when we left. I guess I thought it would have been harder somehow. It seems wrong to me that the husk that had kept me contained my entire life could be so easily shed. I expected yelling or shooting or some sort of… something besides silence and nothing in the dark.
I wasn’t as scared as I thought I’d be when I saw the Horsemen beating up a group of people in the field in front of us. Violence doesn’t feel as unimaginable as I thought it would. Not knowing any of them made it easier of course. My heart skipped a beat when one of the ruffians was standing over my friend with a gun, but he was quickly subdued. Afterwords I cleaned and bandaged wounds for the people the Horsemen had injured. I would have come to help my friends fend off the attackers more directly but that wouldn’t have made a whole lot of sense. I’m a thinker not a fighter. I have better uses than breaking heads in, it would be a shame for talents to go to waste.
Sleeping outside I’m feeling oddly peaceful. I wonder how long it will be until people notice I’m gone. I wonder if they’ll be mad at me. I don’t know exactly what I expect to find out here but hopefully I’ll find something. Hopefully my pretty much inevitable banishment for leaving the village walls will not be in vain. I know there are other people out here. There is a war going on in the area we are traveling through, between different organizations of people. That means there must be something for me to find. They must have ideas and theories and things to learn and discover. There can’t just be nothing left, right? That just couldn’t happen. I can’t bear the cruelty of that possibility. I don’t know how anyone would be able to.
I have to sleep. I can’t sleep. Suddenly its getting harder to breathe. The world is closing in on itself again. Maybe they haven’t noticed I’m gone yet. Maybe I could just go back before they know I’m gone and live out the rest of my miserable little life in dilapidated comfort. Deep breaths. I’m better than that.
The stars are the same here as they were at home. I wonder how far away I’ll have to go before I’m under a different sky? I know I could figure it out scientifically. I know about the earth’s rotations and the changing patterns of stars across the sky. I just wonder how far I’ll have to go before the sky will be my own.
The sun refuses to rise and clear away this overly patient darkness. I want to do something besides lie here and try to sleep. I want to go somewhere. I don’t care where, but anywhere but here. What if the people from our village come looking for us? What if they find us collapsed here on the ground? What am I supposed to do then? Lie and say I was kidnapped? No. That would be disgustingly cowardly. Besides, no one is going to find us. There’s no way that would happen. As long as we stay out of sight of camp, we’re all on our own.
Why won’t morning come?
Oh shit. I forgot to bring Robert Neville. I probably forgot a lot of things… somehow this one feels the worst. I hope nothing happens to it. Maybe I can go back someday. Right now I don’t see how that could be possible.